


till fate brings you home (i'll wait through your phases)

by ningningbin



Category: ENHYPEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Songfic, give the boy some credit, healthy relationship talks, kim sunoo is bad at feelings, sunghoon isn't that good at it either but he tries, this mf is in love with sunoo and sunoo is emotionally constipated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29879961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ningningbin/pseuds/ningningbin
Summary: "I'll love you in every small piece, every little line and crevice, till you're ready to let me love you as a whole, Kim Sunoo."Words unspoken that he'll never say, but they both understand—it's not that you belong to me, it's the fact that I'm yours.
Relationships: Kim Sunoo/Park Sunghoon
Comments: 13
Kudos: 31





	till fate brings you home (i'll wait through your phases)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Double_Vs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Double_Vs/gifts).



> haPPY BIRTHDAY VIVI!!!!!! You've been such an amazing friend to me that i really wanted to write a fic for you or SUMN it's not my best work, but i hope this reminds you that you deserve love and to be cared for and understood <3333 happy birthday again!!! (i'm sorry the fic's publication date cant be 11/3, it's cause TIME ZONES UGH)
> 
> special mentions go out to the people on my priv twitter who saw me going ins^ne yesterday,,, it's a side effect of writing, i apologize

**Kim Sunoo's on his twentieth heartbreak,** and by extension, Park Sunghoon too. He remembers the first time it happened—they're seventeen and sixteen, stuck in detention together. Sunoo had been in hot water for something stupid, some nonsense about etching curse words onto bathroom walls. With the smell of pencil shavings in the air, spring on the precipice of tipping over into full bloom, Sunghoon stops looking past this boy for the first time.

He'd been seated next to him, and Sunoo had looked up after being tapped on the shoulder. All it'd taken was a barely whispered, "Hi" before the younger boy launched into a long explanation of how he'd just gotten his heart broken for the first time.

They've come a long way now, but somehow it doesn't feel like anything's changed over the years. Sunoo's lost the baby fat from his cheeks, he's grown—maybe an inch taller, though he still has to tilt his head up to look at Sunghoon when they speak. Sunghoon's still the one he asks to reach up to the top cabinets to feel around for canned food he _knows_ he'd stored _somewhere;_ still the person he texts first when there's a cause for celebration; still the person he calls when he needs to hole up at night in dark corners that aren't within the walls of his own studio. This distance between them... that's something that has remained unchanged, too.

But there's more to them than just feelings Sunoo might never reciprocate. Five years ago when his family moved here, Sunghoon had nothing to call home but the train tracks and the shitty rooftop apartment that was merely a poor imitation of their place in Busan. Then he'd found Sunoo, and with him, comfort.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asks quietly, turns off the TV that Sunoo's long since stopped watching. He has to repeat it two more times before Sunoo blinks back into the present, disoriented and slightly shivering.

"'M okay," the boy answers, lips curving into his best impersonation of a genuine smile.

Sunoo might be okay, in a week or two. But right now he's not and Sunghoon's heart is clenching with the same ache that chases Sunoo's erratic pulse.

_You need to stop doing this to yourself. Let me take care of you—let me help._ All the things Sunghoon doesn't say, cause he doesn't want to risk toeing the line drawn between them like a salt circle to keep the demons at bay. They've let that happen once before, and the results had been disastrous enough that Sunghoon doesn't want a repeat of it, regardless of how blissful the high had been. _Kiss me, let me kiss you. Sunoo, please, look at me._

"Wanna talk about it?" he says instead.

The next inhale is more painful than the last. Because Sunoo's looking right into his eyes and it's taking every bit of Sunghoon's willpower to keep his fingers at his sides. He folds his arms across his chest, nails digging into flesh.

"What's there to say? It's just like the last time. And the time before that..." Sunoo laughs and there's no joy in the sound. It's a sharpened knife probing at his emotions, feeling for a soft spot, a vulnerability its tip could pierce through. Well. It's not like there's a single part of him that isn't vulnerable to Kim Sunoo, and it's part of the reason why he's been bleeding out on the cold pavements for the past few years.

Maybe this is how almost-relationships are supposed to work. Maybe this is the storm before the calm, if that's even a thing. He wants to laugh at himself for holding out hope, but it's a little too real to be shaped into a joke now.

"Probably not what you want to hear right now, but you've gotta stop going after assholes."

"You're right," Sunoo agrees, and there's a hint of a smile in there somewhere. If they try hard enough they might be able to go back-and-forth till an actual laugh bubbles up their throats, but they're both exhausted tonight, sapped dry. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this again..."

Sunghoon tears his eyes away. "I told you to stop thanking me for these things—I _want_ to look out for you."

"I wish you didn't. It'd be easier if you don't do this every time." He pauses, eyes growing wider like he's rocketing through an epiphany. The hem of the sweater Sunghoon borrowed him is balled up in his tight fists like he's holding on to a safety blanket. Sunghoon thinks the boy looks adorable in it, drowning in the material cause it's two sizes too large on his frame. And, _fuck,_ he also thinks it's sick that Sunoo's wardrobe is almost entirely made up of sweaters he's copped and "borrowed" on previous visits. He thinks, _shit,_ _what a good night this would be if this is the end of his problems—that he's got a friend who won't stop stealing the most comfortable and worn-in things he owns._

What a simple life that would be.

"I agree."

"Then why do you keep letting me come here?"

"Can't ever make it easy, can you?" Sunghoon snorts, then steals a glance at the clock. He's gotten somewhat good at trying to convince Sunoo to stay up and watch a movie with him, and Sunoo's gotten better each time at entertaining the idea before shutting the older boy out without another word. Sunghoon might save himself the trouble of asking this time, just to give his thoughts and feelings a bittersweet kind of respite. "I just want to be here for you."

"I want to be there for you, too. Wherever ' _there'_ is."

This is starting to feel like a movie set, the bowl of ripening fruits on his coffee table just a prop made out of polystyrene. The next line that comes is, " _But I can't."_

"It's alright, this is okay," he cuts in before they can get there. Sunoo's gaze prowls guiltily over his features, before dropping onto the floor like it hurts to look at him. So he echoes the empty reassurance again that neither of them believes, " _This is fine."_

"This shouldn't be how you spend your Friday night," Sunoo says.

"I like being at home anyway."

"Hyung," Sunoo calls, like any traces of the conversation they've just had has been wiped from his memories. He's calling Sunghoon like they haven't been talking this whole time—perhaps they haven't. Maybe they've just been dancing around the topic of what they should really be working out, hoping it'll all go away and fall into the terrible cacophony of beer bottles crashing into each other later, when they've resigned for the night. It's like those monsters that hide in the closet when you're young—ignore them and they'll fade into the fine cracks that run along, almost invisible, across the expanse of your bedroom walls. "Hyung, I think there might be something wrong with me," he admits in a small wisp of a voice.

Without looking at him, Sunghoon wills himself to reply, "Don't say that about yourself, Sunoo."

"No, just—let me get this out. For once." The older boy doesn't miss the way Sunoo's breath hitches, the words caught in his throat. "I think there's something so terribly wrong with me, I won't be able to fix it."

Sunoo's bangs are falling over his eyes, and he's squeezing them shut because the tips are poking in. This time Sunghoon doesn't stop himself from leaning in to push it back. He places his fingertips on the floor and pulls himself closer. The fabric of his jeans resist the drag, Sunoo's eyes are telling—he's close to shunning Sunghoon again, a punishment for caring. Sunoo's always despised pity, hates physical touch even more.

But Sunghoon's always wondered—if he hates it that much, what are those hands on his face when he's being kissed by some drunken stranger in some sleazy club?

Nine-year-old Sunghoon attended an art class where he'd learned to color. His teacher had droned on about the importance of sciene behind shading, behind light. But even as the orange light fixture hangs over the boy now, it doesn't feel like it's responsible for casting an orange glow over Sunoo's pretty skin. There's just something about Sunoo... he walks into a room and turns achromatic to a carnival of colors. It's like dropping paint into a glass of water.

And in front of others, it's as clear-cut and explicitly obvious as it gets. A drop of red for rage, yellow for happiness, blue reserved for the more melancholic times. When he's solely in Sunghoon's presence, it's murky, and suddenly things aren't simple anymore. Sunoo has an obsession with being labeled an open book, all in an effort to keep parts of himself that he doesn't want revealed behind a front of what he chooses to show.

There's a side to Sunoo that people don't get to see, where he's sullen and withdrawn, bubbly and effervescent like some vigorous chemical reaction. He's draped over Sunghoon's couch like a cat soaking up sun, craning his head back in front of the TV to stop the tears from flowing down. Sunghoon finds him in the painting they left unfinished on one of his bedroom walls, dancing on tippy-toes when he shows up spontaneously to make Sunghoon breakfast before the latter wakes to a drafty apartment.

There are all these moments, you know. When you're living them, you find yourself thinking, _fuck, I'm glad I'm here to watch this happen. I'm glad I'm here._ But it doesn't matter, because Sunghoon doesn't let himself forget anything about Sunoo. Framed pictures on the wall, songs they listened to while they're in the car on night-drives, the smell of the sea in the salty sea breeze. These things will hit him out of nowhere and he'll relive all those precious moments like the first time he's been there.

Sunghoon's glad he gets to be _here_.

Sunghoon wishes they could be more.

This is his cue to retreat so that he doesn't wake up tomorrow blocked.

Instead, he closes another inch. Sunoo looks at him, unsure. The last time things went to shit, this was how it started.

"Can I hold your hand?" Sunghoon murmurs. His palm is laying on his knee, facing the ceiling. In the next second, Sunoo's placed his on hand over Sunghoon's, and the latter thumbs shapes of stars onto the younger boy's canvas. He's probably not going to see Sunoo for a long time, and that's alright. They just have to get through this together first.

"Why do you keep staying?"

Sunghoon answers honestly, like the words have been waiting for ages now, begging to be spoken— _"For you."_

"For _what?"_ Sunoo exhales shakily, like he's willing himself not to cry. The sound of the fan beating in the air is the only noise in the room, and Sunghoon's feeling self-conscious. He doesn't need Sunoo to hear his heartbeat now.

"Can't I just stay because I want to?"

"You don't have to do this, you know? This isn't pretty to deal with."

They're never going to be pink-tinged clouds pulling over meadows, jumping into piles of autumn leaves. A cup of warm cocoa in your hair when the storm's raging on outside, rattling the windowpanes like they're trying to push in. When they're together, Sunghoon hears a soft humming in the deep recesses of his mind, because even when he wants to break down and cry, there's something about Sunoo that makes him want to sing. Sunoo pulls melodies out of places in his body that he didn't even know could make music, because he's a walking miracle.

They're never going to be _just right_ , and it's fine for Sunghoon. He's made his peace with that. But he doesn't know what Sunoo thinks, even if he's the person who knows him best. So he's never pushed, never unloaded all his feelings at Sunoo's feet, waiting for him to sort through trash and mess to find a single, hopeful dandelion hiding beneath.

Sunoo trusts him to keep his distance. And Sunghoon will breach the barrier to make him stop hurting, and that's all he'll let himself do. The night he caved in and asked to kiss Sunoo, the guilt had eaten him up from inside like a flame burning through cloth. He'd melted like candle wax, right into Sunoo like all he's wished for all these years, but the humiliation and shame that simmered under his skin eventually came to a boiling point, when he made himself stop.

And Sunoo, he'd—he'd asked _why._

_I don't want to kiss you, not like this._ His mind is thinking one thing, his heart heading to battle with another, his tumultuous feelings pouring out the drain like it's in reverse.

_You already have._

Sunghoon wants to say sorry, but apologies make Sunoo feel at fault, so he changes the pillowcases in the guest room every three days, just in case Sunoo drops by. He makes food in portions of two, and eats them cold for the next meal if Sunoo doesn't turn up. He tortures them both with the implication of his love driving every little ministration, when all he wants to tell Sunoo is, _I'm sorry for being so selfish._

Things haven't been the same after.

This is as close as they're going to get.

"It's a choice to stay," he quietly says. "'m choosing to stay."

Sunoo turns away. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Soft breathing, a couple arguing next door. The cat from _405_ must've gotten out again, because it's scratching at Sunghoon's door. "You don't have to take responsibility for others' actions. I'm here because I _want_ to be."

"I want to be with you," the younger boy blurts out, and all in the world comes to a halt.

Sunoo's pulse beneath his thumb jumps. Sunghoon feels like his heart might be trying hard to match that pace. Briefly, he wonders if the continuation might be another variation of, _But I can't._

"I don't know why I won't let myself. And I feel like _shit_ for making you wait for me to be okay, or fine, or _ready._ I'm not ready to love anyone, hyung, and I-I'm _scared._ There's all this love you're giving to me that I don't know how I'm going to give back. I'm never going to be ready to love you but I still want you to go on. Do you _see_ how fucked up I am? I'm an ugly patchwork of all the problems a person can have." A breath, a beat, the whirring of the fan. "I don't deserve you."

"I like you a lot, Sunoo."

Pause.

Sunoo laughs, nods, a tear threatening to fall from the corner of his eye. "I know, hyung."

"If it's too overwhelming for you, I'll love you in the little pieces. Every line, every crevice. I'll love you bit by bit, till you're ready for me to love you whole. I'll add on to my affection in such little doses you won't be able to tell it's built up to a mountain. It doesn't matter to me if you aren't ready, Sunoo. This has never been about how long it'll take. It's never been about you reciprocating."

_It's not that you belong to me. It's that I'm yours._

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this all the time," Sunoo sighs, bringing a sleeve up to his eyes. Sunghoon feels like breaking down, too. The younger boy throws his head back onto the couch, eyes fixed on the ceiling for a few quiet seconds as he takes in strained breaths. Their hands are still interlocked, and Sunghoon's thumb is gently grazing the spot where he feels Sunoo's pulse most prominently. He turns his head over to stare at the older boy, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I should probably stop saying sorry, shouldn't I?"

Sunghoon mirrors his smile unconsciously. "Yeah, you probably should..."

"I wish choosing to stay is as easy for me as it is for you." It's a little awkward to address Sunghoon's crush on him, when they're both alone and so vulnerable for attacks right now. But they're trusting each other to heal, not go on the offensive, so _this is fine._ Besides, it isn't a crush. It's a little more than that— _a lot_ more. When Sunghoon holds Sunoo's hands he's thinking of the times they'd hang out at the train tracks next to his house.

Sunoo's beaming at him, throwing both hands out. " _Steady me,"_ he'd say to Sunghoon, and like clockwork, they get into position like well-oiled machinery who knew where their places were in the world. He walks the path on the single track, wobbly but without fear of falling. There's Sunghoon here to help him up if he does anyway.

And for Sunghoon, well—he's always been the timid one between the two of them. He's afraid of heartbreak, so he's never loved anyone. He's the pessimistic one who thinks of worst-case scenarios before they even leave the starting point, doesn't see the reason why he should pursue something that's going to end inevitably. Holding on to Sunoo gives him a share of the thrill, and it's in his bones to care about Sunoo, he thinks.

What they have, it's beyond _enough._

Sunghoon loves him, but he's not asking for anything in return. He's not going to throw a fit like a child if they aren't going to end up together because the Universe doesn't will it so. He's content with being here for Sunoo, just as the boy's been his whole comfort system all these years. There's a little something called the right person, wrong time, and he thinks they might be each other's.

"It's not going to be easy."

"Nothing ever is."

"I just—sometimes feel like I have to run through all these bad decisions to make the right one." The rings of Sunoo's irises are reflecting the orange light, makes them feel more capable of magic than they already do on regular nights.

Sunghoon hates physicality, and it's funny that he's found someone who detests touch more than he does. But maybe they've interpreted it wrong this whole time, because they're comfortable right now, settling into their new rhythm, building into something made of hopes and dreams. Holding Sunoo's hand feels like making a thousand wishes on a dandelion—you've only got one shot, so _make the right wish._ But here's the thing, you're lying in flowerbeds and the air is thick with the scent of flowers in full bloom. You've just let your first dandelion drift away with the wind, but here you are, in a field with hundreds more.

They're never going to stand at the lip of a cliff together, watching the stars or the moon or whatever people do. One of them is bound to be waiting below, ready to catch the other when they take the leap of faith.

There's a raw assurance like this when they're holding hands. It's almost two in the morning and Sunghoon finds himself wanting to draw nearer by being more connected to Sunoo's thoughts.

"Whatever comes," Sunghoon assures him, like the waves lapping on sand. 

"Whatever comes," Sunoo smiles, echoes, and it's like a promise to them.

_I'll stay._

[ _**♪** _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IJjeVuIGwa8&ab_channel=PrettyMuchVEVO)

**Author's Note:**

> okay wow, do i have an excuse for writing this? yes. vivi's birthday. and i really just wanted to write a fic where i get to explore sunsun's dynamic in this kind of setting. like, as in, i love you but you don't have to love me back until you're ready. "i can't watch you love me more than you love yourself" was one of the lines i was gonna put in but didn't make the cut!! 
> 
> does anyone else find sunsun's dynamic so _interesting? _like, i swear, sunoo's the type to hate an emotional debt but he'd rather repay it quietly by showing more love in return instead of kicking up a fuss about it. and sunghoon's the type to continue loving someone without a doubt in his mind, and he does so quietly as well. so this fic kinda forced them out of this comfort zone by making sunoo confront his fear of oweing someone so much love, and on sunghoon's side, he knows he has to talk about it at the risk of being left behind by sunoo again.__
> 
> _  
> _he's made a mistake of giving in to his want before, and now all he wants is for them to be safe and happy, regardless of whether they ever end up together, Now there isn't gentle kithes like i normally do enjoy writing, because they aren't together. (not yet) this is honeslty just them... working things out. making promises of staying. if there comes a time that they can love e/o without any obstacles standing between them, then they will. but they won't force it._  
> _
> 
> _  
> _they're just going to let it happen!_  
> _
> 
> and happy birthday to one of the nicest, kindest, people i know--vivi, may you have a blast today <33333
> 
> __  
> _twitter_[ _ **here**_](https://twitter.com/ricecookerym)  
>  curious cat [_**here**_](https://curiouscat.qa/ricecookerym)  
> 


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